Body of Chack
by CrystallicSky
Summary: A rundown of anatomy in the form of Chack. CHACK, ONESHOT


**Body of Chack**

**By: CrystallicSky**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown; if I did, it wouldn't be a kid's show 'cause of all the sexual references. ;P**

**Warnings: Sexual references, language, homosexuality, the usual for stuff I write. XD**

Head- Jack Spicer really _did_ have a good head on his shoulders, Chase had to acknowledge. Though he was often a little too trusting and always eager to do something whether it was a good idea or not just because he thought it was 'evil', he was intelligent, _frighteningly_ intelligent, even. With proper guidance, _his_ guidance, the goth could become one of the most dangerous beings in the known and unknown universe, and if taught right, loyal only to him. For now, the warlord was satisfied to have that gifted, red head bobbing up and down eagerly between his legs.

Face- Chase Young was used to the various troubles brought about by his face. He was gorgeous and knowing this, he could often use his looks to his advantage, especially in manipulating the weaker of the female species to his will. However, such beauty tended to come with various headaches, namely the admirers of said beauty who became far too infatuated with his good looks and made massive annoyances out of themselves. He had thought, for a long time, that Spicer was just another annoyance of that kind, only obsessed with his aesthetic qualities. However…when he finally accused the teen of his motives, the response he'd received was decidedly not standard. "What?!" Jack had practically shrieked in horror. "No! Chase…you don't get it! I could care less if you were involved in some weird combine accident that mangled your face, or some spell made you actually look your age: it's _you_ I want." The warlord was honestly shocked. Perhaps…perhaps he need reevaluate what Spicer was to him…

Hair- Chase was so proud of his hair, so very, _very_ proud of his long, dark mane. Right now, Jack really couldn't help but feel extremely honored. "Mmm, Spicer," the dragon purred in pleasure at the digits firmly massaging his scalp, "have your hands _always_ been this gentle?" "No," the goth admitted, dutifully continuing with the privilege he'd been allowed and thoroughly lathering his lover's beautiful locks with shampoo, "but you kinda gotta learn if a quick move could mean an electric shock." "Either way, you are _wonderful_…keep going…" Jack loved that Chase would so completely relax around him, especially concerning something so precious to him, and of course the fact that (unless his ears were deceiving him) the dragon was actually _purring_ was just icing on the cake for the very-much-in-love albino.

Ears- Jack had always thought Chase's ears were cool, almost elven-looking and only supplemental to the warlord's supernatural beauty. It had only been after the man had accepted him as a lover that he'd been met with a pleasant surprise: the very pointed tips of those ears had a good deal of nerve-endings; enough to, when met with the stimulus of a tongue, make Chase _feel_ enough to go completely limp in pleasure beneath his albino consort. On some level, Jack _adored_ reducing _the_ Chase Young to such a state, because it meant he held power over him, the same sort of power the man had over him, and mutuality was a nice thing.

Eyes- Horror seeped into the warlord's heart as the life faded out of his lover's eyes, becoming a dull, blank red that stared at nothing. He…no, no, he _couldn't_ be… Chase roared aloud as rage consumed him so fully as to _force_ a transformation. Those _stupid_ children had destroyed the only reason he yet lived in this world he despised: as soon as he returned the favor and eradicated all that had value to the Xiaolin monks, he would join his Spicer in death, if only because he could not live in a world where those beautiful, ruby irises no longer sparkled.

Nose- Chase Young awoke to a sharp nip upon his nose, only to find the face of his lover a mere inch away from his. "I know it's the middle of the night," Jack purred to him, "but I'm feeling pretty _frisky_ right now, if you know what I mean…" The warlord smirked at him, agreeably replying, "It is _never_ too late to bother me with that problem, Spicer; however, there are better ways to get my attention than biting my nose." The goth considered this and nodded slowly. "Alright, next time, I'll go more below the waist and not use my teeth; are we gonna fuck or what?" "Certainly," the man laughed, "the sooner we make love, the sooner there will be a 'next time'…"

Mouth- Before actually having sex with his lover, when the two of them had just been casually seeing each other, Jack had been curious about how the whole thing would work. After all, though he couldn't imagine _Chase Young_ having any faults, as with all stereotypes, there was likely a grain of truth to the stereotype of Asians having small penises. He really didn't care about size so much, but he wasn't all that sure how satisfying sex with be with something four inches or, god forbid, _under_. Nonetheless, he told himself that more than a mouthful was a waste in preparation for when 'it' happened. _After_ 'It' had happened, though…well, suffice it to say the goth's new motto had become, "More than a mouthful is a waste, but it sure is nice to have another few inches to put your hands on while you're sucking."

Teeth- Chase _loved_ to sink his teeth into Spicer's flesh; not because to the taste of the goth's blood, not because of the beautiful noise that usually came out of the youth in accompaniment to his bites, but because he knew that Jack was so utterly _willing_ to be bitten.

Neck- His lover had told him that his previous consorts were always difficult in trying to coax their necks to be bared to the warlord; Jack found this odd, as he'd never had a problem with showing Chase his throat. It felt completely natural, really, to give himself over fully to the man he loved.

Hands- It was something of a marvel to Chase how _well_ Spicer's hands fit within his. Those marble hands, a perfect balance between delicate and calloused, seemed almost as if they were _meant_ to be held in his grasp.

Feet- Jack felt that it was finally official: he was a _huge_ dork. There was no other explanation for feeling _honored_, of all things, that his lover would initiate a game of footsie with him.

Stomach- Had anyone else in the world been so bold as to unceremoniously plop onto the couch upon which he was laying, thus knocking the breath out of him, Chase had little doubt he would have mutilated them beyond all recognition; had it even been this very individual several years ago, the warlord would have done the same. As it was (this person being Jack Spicer, his lover and mate), he merely uttered a quiet 'oof' of discomfort and gave an irritated glare to the teen on his stomach. "What?" Jack laughingly acknowledged. "It didn't look like you were gonna move anytime soon, and I wasn't about to stand around all day."

Arms- "Chase, you think you could take my weight with one arm?" "I suppose so," the man answered. "You're pitifully scrawny and I _am_ particularly powerful; why?" "Well…" The goth twiddled his thumbs as he tried to figure out the proper way to phrase this. He soon decided it was best to just come out and say it. "I've got this fantasy, nothing sexual, where I use the Monkey Staff and just hang off your bicep with my tail." "…" Taking the look the warlord was giving him as a cross between 'what the fuck is wrong with you' and 'NO', Jack turned his head away, blushing a bit in embarrassment. "Nevermind, it was a stupid-" "No," Chase sighed, rolling his eyes, "I'll humor you, Spicer; go fetch the Monkey Staff." The shrill noise of pure joy that sounded from the albino's throat, soon followed by boots thumping hurriedly away on marble floor, was enough to tell the warlord that he had just about made his lover's year by agreeing.

Legs- "Spicer," Chase Young gasped, tearing his mouth away from his lover's, "you never told me how strong your legs were." Jack glanced downwards to the warlord's waist, where his legs curled so firmly around that, even without the elder man's hands on his hips, his body was entirely supported. "All the running away, I guess," he shrugged. Chase growled low in his throat, a dark, desirous sound. "Be thankful for your legs, mate," he said, molten gold eyes fixed firmly upon his albino. "Because I no longer need to hold you there, you've just freed my hands to do things I believe you'll find _infinitely_ more enjoyable…"

Back- "Damn," Jack panted in mild shock as he was pressed into the sheets for what had to be the millionth time that day, "you're _insatiable_, Chase…! There can't be _anyone_ that spends as much time on their back as me." The warlord's golden eyes locked on him, foggy with lust. "The deceased are a close second, Spicer; now, kindly shut your mouth. You are distracting me from the rest of you." Naturally, the goth acquiesced immediately.

Shoulder- Chase growled to himself as he carefully massaged his beloved's slender shoulders, feeling a dark urge to make something die at the colorful black and purple splotch upon the right one. He had warned Spicer that this sustained conflict with the monks would eventually bring him to harm, but he'd been ignored and now here was the consequence (only one of many if the disregard continued). The warlord was angry with his lover; yes, there was no denying that. Had his warnings been heeded to remove himself from the conflict, the goth would not be injured as he now was. However, there was _much_ more anger felt towards the rash Brazilian that had hurt him; after all, were it not for Pedrosa, the albino's shoulder would not have been dislocated in the first place. Spicer would be punished, of _course_ he would be punished, but Raimundo Pedrosa would be made to _suffer_ for having forced Chase to endure his poor Jack's screams of pain in having to pop the arm back into the socket.

Knee- Jack had always thought to himself that if he lived to see Chase Young brought to his knees, he would cry. It was next to impossible, but the goth was _completely_ sure that if worst ever came to worst and it happened, to see his idol bested would end up being the saddest day of his life. It was surprising that, when the day _did_ come that the warlord was brought to his knees, it ended up being the _happiest_ day of Jack's life; probably had something to do with the fact that he was the one who was the cause of it and it was only _one_ knee Chase was down on, he figured.

Elbow- "It's impossible to lick your elbow, you know." Chase Young scoffed at his mate's random statement, informing, "That is untrue, Spicer." "No it isn't," the goth immediately protested, "it's _totally_ proven that nobody alive can lick their elbow! It only makes you look really stupid trying to do it." He scoffed again at these words, assuring, "Whatever study determined that obviously excluded myself; I guarantee you I can lick my elbow just fine should I ever be so inclined." The young man gaped at him a moment before frowning, demanding, "Alright, prove it: I _dare_ you to lick your elbow." "And what might I get in return for accomplishing such a frivolous thing?" the warlord wondered. "I'll blow you," Jack decided, "right here and now if you can do it." The dragon-lord chuckled at the newly-given incentive and agreed, "Very well, Spicer; prepare to suck my cock." With a very slight bit of magic, the man prompted a reptilian transformation of only his tongue, making the appendage long and forked before deftly licking his elbow. "H-hey, no fair," Jack exclaimed, "you totally cheated!" "We never discussed any rules," the elder man laughed, "so how could I have possibly broken any? And don't forget, there's still the matter of my reward…" The goth sighed, getting to his knees in front of his lover and muttering, "You're an evil _bastard_…" Chase grinned darkly to feel his sash obediently removed and purred, "You love me for it, Spicer…" The man was gratified to have his lover look up, smiling, "Yeah, I totally do…"

Eyebrows- Lying in bed with the man of his dreams one night, Jack soon noticed something just slightly out of place and therefore leaned over his beloved, licking his thumb and swiping it across the man's eyebrow. When the warlord stared at him as if he were insane (the natural course of action, one should be assured), he sheepishly explained, "T'was somewhat askew…I fixed it." The very eyebrow he'd righted rose upwards in an expression that can be described in no other way that 'WTF', and blushing, the goth turned back to the book he'd been reading, grumbling, "You try to fix an askew eyebrow around here, and what thanks do you get? None, that's what…"

Eyelashes- Chase never imagined that he could be suckered into anything by anyone for any reason: he was no man's patsy. But there was just something about the way Jack's pouting lips quivered and his red eyes went shiny with tears, dark eyelashes fluttering as he cooed, "Pleeeeaaaase…?" that _forced_ him to give in to whatever the goth wanted.

Lips- Whether one chose to believe it or not, Jack Spicer had kissed before. Just because he was not the epitome of 'sexy' as his idol was, he _was_ attractive and when he found his way outside of his lab, it wasn't all that much trouble to get a girl or boyfriend were he so inclined at the moment. Naturally, all those relationships had fallen through, but it wasn't as if he'd made any kind of effort for something long-term (its not like he actually _wanted_ any of them; they were just entertainment for the time being). The point being, however, that he'd received many different kinds of kisses: rough kisses, gentle kisses, chaste kisses, wet kisses, skillful kisses, inexperienced kisses, even cherry lip gloss-flavored kisses; the works. Absolutely none of them, he realized, could remotely compare in any aspect whatsoever to the feel of Chase Young's lips upon his own, the sensation bypassing everything he'd ever felt through a kiss by _far_.

Cheeks- Chase hated it when his beloved cried; he could think of nothing he loathed more. "Hush, Spicer," he ordered gently, brushing tears from pale cheeks, "it is alright." "No, it goddamn _isn't_," the goth sobbed, utterly inconsolable. "_Nothing's_ alright!" The warlord sighed, pulling the boy against his chest. "All things die, mate; ashes to ashes and dust to dust." "But why _them_?" Jack demanded. "Why did my _parents_ have to die?" "It is the way of the world," the man calmly explained. "Children are destined to outlive their makers. It is only natural." The goth did not answer, but tears once more came to his eyes and he clung desperately to his lover as he cried. Chase simply let him cry, holding the boy's cheek to his chest knowing that right now, it was not words that Jack needed, but just him.

Chin- Jack knew Chase would think this was creepy when he woke up, but he couldn't help himself: it was the first time he'd woken up before his lover in the history of ever, and Jesus Tap-Dancing Christ, was the warlord beautiful when he slept! For awhile, he had simply stood there in the middle of the bedroom staring, but as he had no tolerance for long-term standing, he eventually knelt at the edge of the actual bed, his folded arms and chin resting upon the mattress. There was no way he _wouldn't_ be called out or punished for being _this_ weird, but at the moment, Jack could care less: he was entirely bedazzled by Chase's beauty. Naturally, it was at that moment that golden eyes fluttered open and locked with red. "Watching me, Spicer?" The goth fumbled his words for a moment before managing the almost coherent, "Yea-uh…I, um-" He was cut off abruptly by a large hand yanking his skull a bit closer, its twin cupping the albino's chin as he was met with a loving, half-drowsy kiss. "Good morning to you, too, Jack," Chase purred. "Now, come back to bed; I expect your knees are beginning to hurt by now."

Chest- It had been at that very moment that Chase made up his mind: lying there with his beloved, resting his head upon the undefined, white chest as his gorgeous mane was indulgently stroked by a hand of the same pale color, the warlord decided that there was no other he would ever allow the position that Spicer held as his lover. Jack was mortal, Reality irritatingly reminded him; of course he is, the warlord acknowledged, _for now…_

**A/N: This is another of my theme-pieces that I started and abandoned during my writer's block phase; as of now, I have regained inspiration for this and have thusly finished it, and just in time for Thanksgiving! :D**

**I hardly do anything to help make Thanksgiving dinner possible around my house. All I'm in charge of is making the pie (pumpkin, of course), and while I may not be doing much, I do it well: since I started making the pie three or four years ago, my family has not let anyone else do it.**

**I AM PIE-QUEEN!!! XD**

**Ahem, anyways...think of this as my Thanksgiving present to all of you guys; also, I think it'd be neat, so if you comment, try to come up with something you're thankful for! :)**

**I AM THANKFUL FOR CHACK! :D**


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